


Bruised Knuckles and Rosy Freckles

by ggbeaner



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Fist Fights, M/M, Punks Have Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-13
Updated: 2018-06-13
Packaged: 2019-05-21 15:40:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14918129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ggbeaner/pseuds/ggbeaner
Summary: Connor stalks towards Kleinman and throws a punch, but it doesn’t connect with his desired target. Instead, it hits the forehead of someone running between them. The kid flies to the floor. His cast smacks the tile with a hollow thump.The hallway goes silent.Alternate Title: Connor Can't Think Straight





	Bruised Knuckles and Rosy Freckles

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, that title almost rhymed! It has to be a sign of me becoming a true writer. Although this has been sitting in my file for three months. But all real writers forget their work for a couple months, right? Right? Well, I hope you, um... enjoy? I don't know, these note things are hard.

“Hey, Connor. I’m loving the new hair length. Very school shooter chic.”

Connor turns toward the direction of the voice and inwardly groans when he sees who it is. Jared Kleinman. Just what he needed with the shit morning he’d been having. Kleinman smiles at Connor cockily and gives the boy next to him a jab with his elbow. The boy tugs his cast closer to his body and stares at the ground like it’s the most interesting thing in the world. Connor glares pointedly at them.

Kleinman’s smile vanishes, but quickly appears again as a condescending smirk. “I was kidding. It was a joke?”

Like Connor doesn’t know what he really thinks. They’re all the same. Judgemental, biased, fake. All of them.

“Yeah, no, it was funny.” Connor says sarcastically. He bounces from foot to foot. “I’m laughing. Can’t you tell? Am I not laughing hard enough?”

Now the smirk is dropped entirely. Kleinman backs up, laughing nervously. “You’re such a freak.”

Connor stills. Kleinman has just confirmed what no one else has been brave enough to say. He doesn’t fit in. He is a freak of high school nature. For a moment, his eyes burn and he thinks he’s going to cry.

Then he blinks hard and launches himself at Kleinman, punching him squarely on the jaw. Kleinman staggers backwards. “What the fuck?”

“Don’t fucking mess with me.” Connor screams at him. Students scurry out of Connor’s way. Kleinman stands up and hesitantly walks over to Connor. He glances around at the newly formed audience hesitantly. And he balls his fist.

Connor reels backwards as Kleinman punches him across his cheekbone. Black spots dance before his vision. They blend with the white electronic flashes coming from the ring of students around him as the frantically take pictures. Connor catches his balance and glares at the crowd that has formed. They whisper to each other, probably saying he is violent, mental. Well, if that’s all they think of him, he might as well fulfill their expectations.

Connor stalks towards Kleinman and throws another punch, but it doesn’t connect with his desired target. Instead, it hits the forehead of someone running between them. The kid flies to the floor. His cast smacks the tile with a hollow thump.

The hallway goes silent. Connor’s gaze is fixed on the crumpled boy in front of him. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Kleinman turn and run. The coward.

Connor moves closer and realizes that the boy is Kleinman’s friend. Probably not even that, Conner thinks as he watches Kleinman's receding figure.

Connor tries to move closer, but he is pushed aside by a teacher who runs up to the boy quickly and cradles his head. She yells something into a walkie talkie (Connor would have listened but his heart is thumping so loudly every sound is drowned out) and is joined by several other teachers. They carefully load him on a stretcher and carry him in the direction of the nurse’s office.

The boy’s head is lolling backwards and his eyes are closed. A yellow spot on his forehead shows that a bruise will form soon. Connor’s stomach clenches. How could he do that to the boy? He didn’t deserve it. Connor takes a deep breath and sprints unsteadily towards the teachers.

“Leave us, hooligan,” one of the teachers trills as he moves with the group. He looks like he’s attempting to be stern, but his voice is too dramatic to take seriously. “You have to stay back there. The principal will be meeting you.”

Connor ignores him and continues to walk at a steady pace, keeping his gaze fixed on the limp form bouncing on the stretcher.

“Didn’t you hear me?”

Connor doesn’t even glance up. “I just want to make sure he’s okay. I didn’t mean to hurt him.”

They arrive at the nurse’s office. The teacher looks at him suspiciously, his eyes squinted, before a weird expression spreads across his face. “I’m allowing you to enter, even though it should be against my better judgement. I remember when I myself was a troublesome child, much like you. And look where I am now-” he spreads his arms-  “a high school drama teacher in New Jersey.” He opens his mouth as though he’s going to say more, but Connor pushes past him and into the office.

The boy is lying on a cot, surrounded by several teachers and the nurse, who seems to be the only calm one. The others are twittering among themselves about “how scared they are” and how they “hope he’s okay”. It’s all fake, of course. Connor grabs a chair and drags it next to the head of the cot. It’s screeching sound makes all the teachers turn towards him, their eyes wide. He nonchalantly plops down and ignores their stares.

“Is he alright?” he asks the nurse.

“Hopefully,” she replies. “He might have a concussion, but that should be the only thing to worry about.”

Connor looks up at the adults surrounding him. They won’t be able to understand why he is here. In fact, they will probably make the whole thing worse. He wishes they would all just leave instead of crowding him while he tries to be a good person.

The nurse gazes at him sympathetically and seems to notice the cornered look in his eyes. She stands up and claps her hands. The teachers startle. “Everyone out,” she says, making shooing gestures with her hands.

“He has to come with us,” one teacher says, gesturing at Connor. The nurse shakes her head.

“No, he’s staying.” The teacher starts to protest, but the nurse crosses her arms and stares at her, as if to say _This conversation is over_.

All the remaining adults shuffle through the door. It seems to take forever for them to leave. When they are finally gone, the room is quiet and still. The nurse doesn’t say anything about what has happened, just walks to her office with a quick “Tell me when he wakes up”.

Connor stares as the unconscious boy in front of him. He looks a lot more peaceful than he did when he was awake. The worry lines in his brow are gone, and his face has a faint smile on it. It’s only now, staring unapologetically at him, that Connor can really look at his features.

His face is delicate, almost feminine, with long, dark lashes that brush his freckled cheeks. His hair, which is a light brown, has blonde highlights that seem to glow in the fluorescent lighting of the nurse’s office. It is so fluffy it seems to float in a halo around his head, but one side is flattened. Probably from where he fell. Red, rosy lips curl up slightly. Does everyone look this good while they’re asleep? Connor wishes he had his sketchbook and pencils. This boy is picture perfect. If only he could see his eyes.

Connor leans forward so that he can get a better look and is met with the eyes that he just wished for. He stares at them, surprised, just long enough to note the color. Brown. Then he realizes what just happened and jumps back so quickly that he falls off the fucking chair. He lands with a thump on the ground. From above him, he hears a gasp. He scrambles to his feet and stands above the boy, who looks absolutely terrified. _Good going, Connor_ , he thinks to himself. _You completely fucked up._

He stares at the boy, completely lost for what to do. The boy stares back, a look of fear frozen on his face. _Think, think_.

“Hi. Connor.” He mentally slaps himself at how stupid it sounds. “I mean, I’m. Uh… I’m Connor.” He sticks out his hand. The boy shrinks back and holds his cast against his body. His brown eyes are trained on Connor’s outstretched hand. It’s obvious he hates him. Just like everyone else. Why did Connor even come here? He would always be rejected.

He is so caught up in his thoughts that he doesn’t notice the boy’s hand reaching up to shake his until the cold of his fingers registers. He flinches violently and the boy pulls his hand back quickly.

“No! It’s okay, you just startled me.” He holds his hand out in front of him again and the boy slowly reaches out to grab it. Connor notes how soft his hands are, but so cold they seem to defy the heat of the summer day.

“I’m, uh, Evan.” He speaks quickly and quietly, ducking his head down to avoid Connor’s gaze. The motion causes him to grimace and raise a hand to his head.

Connor winces. “I’m so sorry. I really didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“It’s f-fine,” Evan stutters. He sits up so straight it looks like it causes him physical pain.

“It’s not. It’s all my fault. I got so mad at Kleinman that I didn’t think straight.” Why did Connor let himself get so out of control? He feels like a monster.

Evan’s soft voice rings through his head. “Uh, it’s, it’s really okay. You d-don’t need to worry.”

Connor stares at the ground, his breathing quickening. He tries to control it like the therapist had told him, but he can’t quite remember how. It has been so long since he saw her, because fucking Larry wouldn’t let him go back.

A cold hand touches his shoulder. “Uh, I don’t know what you’re going through, but it-it’s okay. I promise.”

Connor leans in reflexively to the touch. It’s been so long since someone has showed any affection towards him at all. Maybe Evan is different than the others. He is opening his mouth to thank him when the door swings open and a blonde woman in nursing scrubs rushes in. Connor realizes that he is still holding Evan’s hand and lets go quickly.

“Oh my god, Evan! Are you okay?” Her face is lined with worry. Her eyes dart between Evan and Connor.

“I’m alright. I just sl-slipped and hit my head.” Connor’s eyes widen. Is he lying to… save Connor?

She embraces Evan, who hugs her awkwardly. Connor locks eyes with him and mouths a thank you. Evan’s face reddens, making the freckles stand out. Connor stands up and leaves, feeling a little lighter. As he walks past the window of the nurse’s office, she winks at him.

 

It isn’t until he gets back after his suspension that he sees Evan again. Connor is leaning against his locker, arms folded, staring at the ground, when he feels eyes on him. Turning, he sees a familiar boy looking at him from the other side of the hall. Their eyes lock and a pretty blush covers Evan’s cheeks, making his freckles stand out. Connor feels the corners of his mouth turn up. It feels strange. It’s been so long since they've done that. He watches to see the other boy’s reaction and Connor’s mouth stretches into a grin. Because

Evan smiles back.

**Author's Note:**

> Fun Fact:  
> I censor all curse words before I publish just in case someone sees my works, so they were all replaced with "heck". For example, "Don't hecking mess with me". Charming thing for Connor to say, isn't it?


End file.
